Last night was in the low 20's again. The high for today is supposed to be in the low 40's and it's supposed to be the same for the rest of the week. Brrr! I was toasty last night. I dragged the remains of the wing tarp into the tent, folded it over, layed half on the air mattress, put the sleeping bag on top of that, folded the remaining section over the sleeping bag and then piled 3 blankets on top of that.
The sun was shining brightly on Thomas Ridge and the Sugarland Mountains behind it as I started up the Bradley Fork Trail below the Hughes Ridge around 9am. I reached the trailhead for the Chasteen Creek Trail in a few minutes and turned up it. I was planning a 5 mile trip up and another 5 miles back. Most of my other hikes here in the Smokies have been in the 8 mile range so this one would be a little more ambitious.
The Chasteen Creek Trail appears to be an old logging road that follows along, duh! Chasteen Creek. I came across a really nice cascading waterfall in the early part of the trail and made a mental note to keep a lookout for it on the way back for a picture. A good shot would require a little scrambling and I didn't want to waste any energy I might need later on.
The steeply sloping hills above and below the trail consisted of the usual rhododendrons, mountain laurel, pines and hardwoods. The rush of the nearby creek was constant as I worked my way higher.
The cold started to ease around 10am and feeling started returning to my fingers.
When trees in this area die and fall they're soon entirely covered with a rich green moss. That same moss begins growing at the base of many hardwoods and seems to work its way up the trunk. This probably aids or causes the death of those trees.
Around noon some nice views of neighboring ridges could be seen through the trees. More steeply forested slopes angled sharply downward forming deep V's with other slopes behind them doing the same. I can remember drawing those kind of mountains as a kid, a series of V's forming mountains and valleys, one on top of the other.
I soon found I was reaching a physical stage beyond which I don't like too push myself unless I have to. Close to 3 hours of steady incline, some easy, some moderate had taken their toll on both my legs and my mind and I began taking short 30-60 seconds rests every few minutes. While my hamstrings were aching, there was still a lot of strength in them so I guess the uphill grind was playing more on my mind.
I like to get to a destination before taking a lunch break but found myself looking for a place to fall down short of today's goal. Today I stopped around 12:30, probably a half mile or so short of the Hughes Ridge Trail junction.
A 20 minutes rest, some water and granola bars got the mind ready for the task at hand and I found the trailhead a quarter mile ahead. I saw a trail sign pointing to the right saying Smokemont Campgrounds 7.3 miles. Without much thought I went in that direction; what's another 2 miles going downhill? I didn't pay much attention to a trail sign lying on the ground saying the trail was closed. I had seen a Hughes Ridge Trail sign while on the Bradley Fork Trail and it didn't say anything about a closed trail. I figured at some point in time the trail was closed but was now open. This was a possible hiking option and I thought it would be a good idea to check it out going down rather than blindly trying to hike up it. Bad move!
Going back down the Chasteen Creek Trail would be 5 miles or so. The Hughes Ridge Trail was 7.3 miles. My logic told me since the Hughes trail was longer it would be a more gradual decline. Wrong! The trail was exactly as described, along the ridge, up and down all those little ribs I could probably see from a distance on another ridge.
By the time I decided there were more ups than downs, I was more than a mile into the trail and considered myself past the point of no return. I was more or less following a trail of disturbed leaves and assumed I was following the trail of someone else who had passed this way in the past day or two. Since I agreed where the trail led, I just shuffled along, stirring up the leaves even more, leaving myself a clearer trail should I have to return this way. I just hoped this guy had lots of trail experience. I didn't want to come across a pile of rags and bones in the middle of the trail.
I started to see areas along the trail that were all torn up. Either the hiker had lost something and spent some time searching for it or I've been following a bear and it was stopping to search for grubs and stuff. Then I came across a rotten log that had been pulled apart with chunks scattered all around. I know rotted would contains grubs, larvae, ants, etc. and to me that spelled bear. I started shuffling those leaves a little louder from that point on.
I'd passed over, under and around a few downed trees along and across the trail to this point. Now I started seeing some really huge trees that had been blown over or fell down because of internal rotting. These were so large they couldn't possibly be part of the second growth forest planted after the logging operations in the 30's. These had to be much older than that.
Some of these tree had been down for some time and I began to realize this trail really was closed; hopefully for lack of trail crews and not for some environmental reason. Well, I was several miles into the trail and really had no choice but to go on.
Eventually I estimated I was a couple of miles within the end of the trail when I came to an extremely steep pitch that had me slipping and sliding all the way down. Man am I glad I wasn't trying to climb that section. Soon I started coming across cross roads of old abandoned logging roads with no signs. Which way to go? Never fear! We have a GPS here.
I got it out and determined I wanted to go this way or that and proceeded confidently down the trail. After a while though, I started to wonder about the previously entered position that I was 'going to'. Where did I set that position. I began to suspect it had been set the other day when I was out bushwhacking somewhere along that 'trail'. Oh well. I figured I was a mile or so in the other direction from the campgrounds when I set it so I had an idea of the general heading I wanted to follow.
I was kinda following these blue ribbons I saw tied to branches and trunks along the trail. I thought these might be trees marked for cutting but there was nothing wrong with them. I don't think they were trail makers so I don't know what they were but I just kept following them.
I finally broke out on a dirt road. Cool! That must be the Bradley Fork Trail road so I get the GPS out to see in which direction to turn. It says turn right and I'm 1.3 from my last setting. So off I go to the right. But then I see this little blue sign that says "Posted! No Trespassing". Huh? No Trespassing in a National Forest? Uh Oh! Somehow I've entered the Cherokee Indian Reservation and have no idea where I am or how to get out. I really only have one choice and that's to retrace my steps and follow the road in the other direction, hoping I don't see another sign.
So I head in the other direction, hoping and praying this road doesn't start climbing higher. It doesn't but it does start branching and forking and I stay on what looks like the main road.
Looking down on the sandy roadbed I see lots of tracks in the sand. I'm trying to figure out whether they're a bear cub, bobcat or raccoon when I look up and see 3 mountain goats on the road. I think I'm out west in the Rockies or someplace like that. They spot me and take off down a steep slope (I said they were mountain goats didn't I?) and then I hear one of them's wearing a bell. So I guess maybe they're not mountain goats and I'm still in the Smokies, not the Rockies.
A mile or two farther I see this guy working in a small garden along the road side. I ask him where the hell I am and he confirms I'm on the reservation. He's a Cherokee and lives up the slope a ways and is used to lost hikers knocking on his door at night when they are drawn to his lights and ask for help.
He says the shortest way back to Smokemont is down the slope, up on the ridge and follow it for a half mile or so. Then he offers me a turnip and a ride. I decline both, thank him and head off down the slope, up on the ridge. At least I'm on the right side of the mountain and I know where route 441 through the National Park is. The sun is starting to set behind Thomas Ridge so I know where west is and can figure where north and south are too from that.
Well, I go slippin' and slidin' down that really steep slope covered with leaves. At the bottom is a little tiny spring and I try to follow it rather than try to climb back up to that equally steep ridge. I soon see that I have no choice and begin the 100 yard climb. It's so steep and the leaves are so slippery I can't go straight up but have to go along sideways, first in one direction and then back in the other. After stopping three times to rest on the way, I get to the top, hoping to see something familiar. So much for hope.
I follow the ridge a little ways, sliding down into little valleys and climbing back up the other side and then decide to strike out west for the road. So down I come off the ridge, right into a thicket of rhododendrons. And I mean a thicket. I spend 5 minutes or so pushing and ducking and crawling through it, constantly getting the backpack hooked on something and getting a pretty good cut over the left eyebrow. I take an aspirin every day. That keeps my blood thin so when I get cut I bleed like a hemophiliac.
Eventually I climb down to what appears to be a dry stream bed so I start following it north. Or at least I think it's north. I'm in a deep valley and can no longer see where the sun was setting. In a short time I find a tree that has fallen across the bed and has been sawed to make a passage. Ah Ha! I'm on a trail. But what trail and am I heading towards or away from Smokemont. And it's getting darker and it's getting colder.
And the GPS is acting funny. The distance from the last setting keeps changing as I sit there watching, as does the altitude. I figured I walked past the campground while on the road so north is the direction I want to go. A short distance along I see what appears to be a real trail on the other side of a creek. I cross over and sure enough, it looks real. And there's dried horse sh*t on it. I never thought I'd get all tingly over horse sh*t but things seemed to be looking up.
Except as I followed this trail it went up and up and up. And it's getting darker and it's getting colder. The GPS is seems to be agreeing with me a little now in that the distance to my last setting is narrowing somewhat.
I'm starting to mentally review the contents of my backpack in case I have to spend the night in the Smoky Mountains with the temperature in the low 20's. I have the rain fly from an old tent, lightweight and compact, something called a sportsman's blanket which is a heavy duty brother to those throwaway emergency blankets, a PUR water filter I haven't used in a few years, lots of matches, granola bars, flashlight, batteries, etc. I probably wouldn't build a fire and I would probably be very uncomfortable but I wasn't worried about surviving the night (much).
Soon I come across a trail sign but it's meaningless because none of the trails are mentioned on my map. Great! That's helpful as I continue up and down over these small ridges.
The trail is becoming very dim around 5:15 or so, so I get the GPS out for another look while I can. It's mildly encouraging as it now says I'm 1.3 miles from my location. I have to remember that that is 1.3 miles in a straight line and the trail may well twist and turn for many more miles than that.
I get the flashlight out along with a new pack of Panosonic AA batteries. I haven't seemed to have had good luck with these batteries. I just started seeing them in these southern stores for a buck or so less than the others so I picked up a couple of 4 packs. The ones I've used have gone dead after just a couple hours. So I intend to use the flashlight sparingly.
I come across another meaningless trail sign and then come across one that says Bradley Fork. Hey, I know him! He sounds like an old and dear friend. That's the trail I started out on this morning. So up and down we go some more but with a little more confidence and a little more energy. But the sign didn't give any distance so I have no idea how far ahead it is.
I can see headlights on 441 a quarter mile below me. Should I strike off down the slope and try to reach it? I talked myself out of that one and on and on I go, up and down these damn ridges. And always those nagging question, should I trust this GPS and am I going in the right direction? Maybe the trail signs got turned around and Bradley Fork is really in the other direction. Or what if this trail meets Bradley way up on top of some mountain. But on I trudge.
Finally, way down below me, I see what I take to be lights of the campground. Again I ask, should I strike off down the slope and try to reach it? And again I talk myself out of it and continue down the almost totally dark trail. I'm stumbling over roots and rocks and gawd knows what would happen to me trying to climb down a pitch black slope.
If this trail is going to break out onto the Bradley Fork Trail where I think and hope it will, I know I have to go a mile or so past the campground. The trail is going down but if it starts any kind of serious ascent, I would seriously consider tackling that slope in the dark.
And finally, there it is, the Bradley Fork Trail road. And it looks familiar and I know where I am. Lordy be and ain't I happier than a pig in sh*t?
I walk into camp at 6:45 moving faster than when I left this morning. I guess this goes back to what I was saying earlier. I never like to push myself past maybe 3/4 of what I perceive my physical limits to be. If I know I have some reserves left in there I can push myself a long ways past what I would like to. I've done it many times while sea kayaking and weather conditions have turned against me and it's happened a couple of times while hiking.
Maybe that's why I carry that 10-15 pound backpack around while hiking, to build up strength and stamina so it's there when I need it. I have no one else to rely on so if I can't get myself out of a situation.
I was overheated when I hit camp but the temperature was down in the low-30's already. I made some soup and hot chocolate and enjoyed them in the truck with the heater going full blast. I rigged the bedding up as I had last night and crawled in the sack. Major mistake!
I kept on sweating and the clothes kept on venting that sweat into the sleeping bag. The sleeping bag in turn seemed to vent it through to the tarp and in the morning everything was soaking wet, including me. I should have taken the time last night to, if not wash down, at least dry down and change clothes. I'm lucky and very thankful that I don't appear to have suffered from that experience.
Oh, by the way, those Panasonic batteries went dead after I used them steadily for an hour or so after arriving back in camp. I'll have to find some real batteries before going out again.